


look at me: unfurling

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, M/M, Office Sex, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-02 05:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10210799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Doyoung's prepared for the 18-hour work days of a top investment bank, not so much for spending most of those hours with his boss.(Or, a banking AU.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I…………… fell really hard for NCT. I'm still in the process of getting to know them but!!! dotae just spoke to me. I honestly have no idea what I got into tbh.
> 
> Taeyong really isn't the boss here; in investment banks (or at least, the ones I've talked to/visited), analysts get assigned to associates who oversee their work, but "boss" is sexier than "general overseer and occasional partner" lmao. anyway, you'll get to meet the real big bosses later on. anyway, whatever I write here probably isn't accurate because I'm just a college student who wants to work in an investment bank :') the hierarchy goes: analyst < associate < director < managing partner
> 
> also, I wrote this in three days. I'm just as shocked as you.
> 
> title is from a poem (Song to Orpheus by Deirdre Camba) but you'll probably never get to read it in this lifetime (alternatively, you can ask me for a copy, haha)
> 
> all the love to my best friend Reena for helping me out and laughing at me as I go through my journey into NCT ♡

Doyoung’s been through the lobby of this building before; he remembers the high ceiling, the marble counter where the guests come to deposit their IDs and sign in. Still, it doesn’t hurt to ask excuse me, is this where SM Capital is? And if I go take the elevator straight to the 36th floor I’ll get there? Or he could simply flash his own ID and walk through the shiny, almost reflective marble floors to the line in front of the elevators.

The elevators in this building each have a control panel made of tempered glass and buttons that glow, Doyoung’s fingertip sliding down after he taps his floor. He checks for fingerprints then steps aside when people still start coming in, coffee or phone or both in hand, documents pinned between arm and body. His own laptop is starting to feel heavy, so he switches sides, breath coming out in more deeply as more people get dropped off at the floors below SM Capital.

There must have been a movement to remove crown mouldings from every room in the central business district, overwhelmed by the desire for smoothness and a chance to look modern and, in effect, different from the rest. If SM Capital didn’t instigate the trend, then they must have followed many others into the dizzying display of glass tables and bare-bones shelves with beautiful pottery, the bright light of the office reflecting off a case of expensive whiskey.

“Are you the new hire?” the woman in the front desk asks, and she peers at him from behind her iMac.

“Me?” Doyoung gestures to himself, and the woman nods. “Yes, I’m… new. Kim Dongyoung—Doyoung, please.” She watches him fidget with the slight hint of a smile on the curve of her mouth. “Please call me Doyoung,” he says finally.

She stands up and walks out of her desk, extending her hand for him to shake, which he does. “Sooyoung,” she tells him with a finger pointing to herself. “The vice president is abroad right now, so I’ll just show you around then introduce you to your team. Does that sound okay?”

“That sounds great,” Doyoung manages. Sooyoung starts to walk, her short hair falling in front of her face until she swiftly tucks the locks back behind her ear.

“I’m sure that Sir Junmyeon already explained to you the company’s structure,” Sooyoung begins.

Doyoung nods, though he’s walking behind her, so he realises he has to speak up. “He did,” he replies. All analysts and associates get assigned to teams, and each team works on a project as they come. The associates are each partnered with an analyst, either to have the analyst assist them or to have the analyst do most of the work, with the associate just there to make sure nothing’s out of place.

“Oh, okay, that’s good. This is the lunchroom— Good morning, sir.” Sooyoung bows, and Doyoung follows suit.

“Who’s this?”

“Doyoung, sir,” Doyoung answers. “I’m the new hire.”

The man’s mouth quirks up. “This should be exciting for you, then. I’m Taeil, a second-year associate.” He holds out his hand for Doyoung to shake, and Doyoung extends his slowly, wondering if he should wipe his sweaty palm on his slacks first. “Who’s in your team?”

“Taeyong, sir,” Sooyoung answers for him.

“With Jaehyun?” Taeil laughs and picks up his mug of coffee. “That should be fun. I’ll see you around.” He pats Doyoung’s shoulder on the way out of the lunchroom.

“What did he mean…?” Doyoung wonders aloud to Sooyoung. Sooyoung shrugs.

“Jaehyun was in his team, so maybe that’s it,” Sooyoung tells him. Doyoung follows her out of the lunchroom and to the cubicles, where the analysts are. “This will be where you’ll work.” She gestures at the empty cubicle beside someone furiously rubbing at his eyes.

“Oh, thank god,” the guy groans. “I can’t be left alone in here; I was starting to think the ghost of Hansol is haunting me.”

“He’s not dead, Johnny,” Sooyoung says with a click of her tongue.

“He’s doing retail now, which is as good as dead,” Johnny drawls. His eyes flicker towards Doyoung. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Doyoung says back and, before he could stop himself, adds, “I used to do retail banking.”

Johnny’s eyebrows knit together, but he eventually loosens them, and his face splits up into a grin. “You’re here now, right? Welcome to the jungle.”

Sooyoung rolls her eyes and leads Doyoung away from the cubicles and into the row of offices. Some are open, so Doyoung could see the different phases of work everyone was currently in, the rushed tapping of the keyboard and the wrangling of a necktie loose after an ended meeting. Some are closed, and those are what Sooyoung points at. “Don’t ever go in there without knocking,” she warns. Before Doyoung could say anything, she leads Doyoung to an open office. “Taeyong, this is Doyoung, your new analyst.”

“Oh.” Taeyong, who had probably arrived at the office just a little bit before Doyoung, looks prim and proper, his collar folded into a crisp edge that could cut (probably to the point that it suffocates, and Doyoung can maybe say the same thing about the cuffs covering Taeyong’s wrists). He stands up and extends his hand to Doyoung. “Lee Taeyong,” he introduces himself softly. “Third-year associate. Thanks, Sooyoung. I can take it from here.” Sooyoung melts away from the doorframe, leaving Doyoung behind. “So…”

“Should I get to work?” Doyoung asks.

“But I was just about to give you your assignment,” Taeyong says with a frown. Oh. Right. Doyoung’s face flushes. Taeyong clears his throat and continues, “Our newest project is an acquisition deal. You’ve heard of Neo Culture Technology, right? They’re interested in buying out 127 Aerospace so they can expand into aircraft engineering.”

Doyoung’s eyebrows raise at that. Who _hasn’t_ heard of the biggest conglomerate in Korea? “Really?”

“Yes. And there’s a confidentiality clause here, so you can’t tell anyone we’re working on this deal should the opportunity arise for you to bring it up.”

“It’s okay.” Doyoung lets out a nervous laugh. “All my friends are artists anyway.” When Taeyong stares, Doyoung just feels like… not existing, maybe. Taeyong probably thinks he’s a joke. “Sorry, sir.”

Taeyong’s eyebrows knit together. “Why are you saying sorry?”

Doyoung looks down at his toes clad in black leather. “Sorry.”

“Uhm… I have the case files.” Taeyong points at his desktop. “There’s a system that we have here, so that you don’t have to keep track of so many papers.” Doyoung vaguely remembers a desktop in his cubicle some feet away. “If you like, you can ask the tech guy, Yuta, to set the system up in your laptop, so you can work from home.

“So… We need to make models and presentations. Do you prefer if we divide up the tasks or if we work on all of them together?”

“I can—I can do the models,” Doyoung offers. “Sir.” He doesn’t think he can say presentations make him queasy to Taeyong.“Is that okay?”

Taeyong smiles slightly, or grimaces, whichever. “Whatever is more comfortable with you,” he says. “If you have any questions or clarifications, just ask.”

 

 

“This will take a few hours,” Yuta from IT says when Doyoung brings his laptop to him. “Is that gonna be okay?”

“I guess so?” Doyoung answers. “Thanks.” He leaves his laptop with Yuta, trying to quell the thought of Yuta going through his laptop files in the process. It’s unprofessional, Doyoung. You have nothing that needs hiding, Doyoung. Yuta has his own porn collection, Doyoung.

Johnny’s waiting for him back at their cubicles, leaning back on his chair with an assorted nut mix in his hand. “Hey, Retail.”

“It’s Doyoung,” Doyoung reminds him as he boots up his computer.

“Both are correct,” Johnny says with a shrug. “What are you doing now?”

“Do confidentiality clauses apply to cubicle mates?” Doyoung finally asks after a while of deciding between telling Johnny it’s the NCT 127 project, it’s top secret, or it’s nothing at all.

Johnny shrugs. “I’m not gonna steal your project, if that’s what you’re thinking. Sehun-hyung will kick my ass if I do.”

“Sehun’s…”

“My associate. We’re in the same team with Taeil-hyung and Ten. You should meet him, but I don’t think he’s here yet,” Johnny tells him through a mouthful, making Doyoung worry about crumbs spilling from his lips and onto some documents.

“And Jaehyun’s…”

“With Baekhyun-hyung.”

“Ah,” Doyoung notes. He finally opens the file system for the NCT 127 project and looks through their financial statements. The last big dip in capital was during their last expansion, when they acquired a factory in mainland China to produce their electronics line. That was three years ago, but the increase in retained earnings since then has been at a steady nine percent per year. In terms of growth and stability, nothing else has come quite close. Doyoung’s fingertips have begun to grow cold.

He takes a deep breath then opens Excel.

This is where Johnny maybe has a point about retail banking: Doyoung feels incredibly slow, like the programming of the model is taking much longer than it probably should be. Taeyong had passed by to ask how it was going, and it’s not likely he believes Doyoung saying everything is under control, but he doesn’t press beyond asking Doyoung what he thinks of the acquisition of U Pharmaceuticals back in 2009. There wasn’t a significant change in the growth of the company, but it wasn’t a bad deal either.

“If you need anything…” Taeyong prompts. Doyoung nods, and Taeyong leaves to go to the lunchroom.

“Listen, Retail,” Johnny begins as soon as Taeyong’s no longer within earshot, “I’m not sure if it’s the in thing back there to look like you know what you’re doing, but here it’s okay that you ask. Expected of you, even.” He rolls back on his chair to lean his head on the cubicle behind him. “Right, Jaehyun?”

“Mm?“ Jaehyun removes an earbud and tilts his head to look at Doyoung. “Yeah. I literally bombarded Taeil-hyung with questions when I started.”

“He liked it,” Johnny teases him.

“You ruined him,” the guy beside Jaehyun whines, and Doyoung thinks he’s Ten. “Now he won’t stop asking me why I don’t ask as many questions.” Jaehyun just grins at that, and silence falls among the analysts once more.

Sometime around six pm, the office had begun to slow down. The interns, Mark, Jaemin, and Donghyuck, are all saying bye to the analysts before they leave to probably knock back some drinks and pat themselves on the back for another eight-to-six shift to add to their resumé. Yuta from IT comes to give Doyoung back his laptop before saying he has to go; his girlfriend’s birthday is today.

It's then that Doyoung transfers the files from the desktop to his laptop and carries it to Taeyong’s office, fingers all but clenched and curling into the edge.

“Uhm, sir?” Doyoung… squeaks. He literally squeaks. Please, if there is a higher being, he would like to be struck down by thunder. (In retrospect, this is probably why he thinks retail isn’t good for him.)

“Oh, it’s you,” Taeyong says, maybe a little surprised about it? Doyoung does’t know what to make of his tone.

“I just… need to ask if what I’m doing is okay. Uhm. I’m almost finished.”

Taeyong’s eyebrows shoot up. “So soon?”

“Just—Just the pro forma without the acquisition. I was going to do the other one later,” Doyoung explains, “since it’s quicker if I start with this then add the acquisition later.”

Taeyong looks at the laptop in Doyoung’s hand, face straight and jawline tight (or is he naturally just chiseled like that?). “May I?” Doyoung hands it to him, and Taeyong hums to himself as he scrolls through. Otherwise, he looks as blank as ever, and Doyoung’s stomach curls as he thinks of all the possible scenarios that could come from this exchange.

Yes, he’d rather get chewed out now than later, but he’d also rather not get chewed out at all, especially not by Taeyong, who looks like the type to stew quietly in anger then lash out when it all piles up.

Without a word, Taeyong hands the laptop back to him. Doyoung, quite frankly, stares.

“Sir?” Doyoung pipes up. There’s that fucking squeak again.

“It’s late,” Taeyong murmurs. He’s returned his gaze back to his computer, so he doesn’t look up at Doyoung when he says, in a much louder voice, “I think you should go home.”

It shouldn’t sound like a euphemism for _You're fired_ , but it does. Like a rejected dog, Doyoung slinks back into his cubicle, plopping into his seat with a sigh.

“What’s wrong, Retail?” Jaehyun asks.

“Not you, too,” Doyoung groans. “My name is Doyoung, if you’re curious.”

“I don’t know if it makes you feel better that I’m not,” Jaehyun tells him with a shrug. “Did you make a mistake?”

“I…” In no time, Doyoung’s forehead will be as creased as Taeyong’s. “Huh, I don’t know. He told me to go home.”

“That’s nice.”

“Is it?”

“Sometimes it’s underhanded speak for ‘you’re doing a shitty job’.”

Great. Doyoung wrings his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“ _Sometimes_. It’s your first day, Retail. Relax. Maybe Taeyong-hyung didn’t want to scare you away by making you stay till three in the morning.”

“It’s fine. I don’t have to go home,” Doyoung says.

At that moment, Johnny comes back with a rather large mug of coffee and raised brows. “Really, Retail? I’d kill to go home right now.”

“Same,” Jaehyun echoes. “Taeil-hyung let Ten go home today because it’s his grandmother’s birthday.”

“Lucky. My grandmother’s dead,” Johnny deadpans. 

“I’m staying,” Doyoung pipes up. “That’s final.”

It turns out, both Jaehyun and Johnny love what they’re doing. It’s just that Johnny hasn’t used his Netflix account in two months, and he feels like it’s a waste of twelve thousand won every month; Jaehyun found a new recipe that he’s eager to try out but has been eating mostly black bean noodles for three weeks now, which can’t be good for him.

Around nine pm, Taeyong’s come out of his office, necktie officially removed and the first two buttons of his shirt popped open. The cuffs have been loosened as well, the sleeves now rolled up a bit to expose his wrists. When he sees Doyoung in his cubicle, he stops. “You’re still here?”

“Uhm.” Doyoung hesitates, bites his lip. “I wanted to double-check the model, so I’m rereading the financial statements.”

“But I told you to go home.”

“It’s okay,” Doyoung says.

Taeyong runs a hand through his hair, undoing the practised style until locks of hair fall in front of his face. “Go home. It’s your first day.”

If Doyoung could look back at Jaehyun, Jaehyun would look at him in a way that says _See?_ , but he’s not; he’s only able to look at Taeyong. Doyoung swallows whatever is caught in his throat.

“Yes, I’ll… I’ll go home. Sir.”

Taeyong just nods then walks on, heading straight for the bathroom.

Johnny watches Doyoung pack up with wide eyes. “So that’s what he’s like, huh?”

“You don’t know?”

“Nah, man. I got here three months before you. Never worked with him.” Then, Johnny drops his voice. “He’s probably constipated.”

Unbidden, Doyoung bursts into laughter, and it leaves him shaking. “Yeah, probably.”

 

***

 

The night off Taeyong gives him that day is probably the last, Doyoung realises. Granted, it’s Doyoung’s second month and he’s been going home at eleven, sometimes a little after midnight, not so much the ungodly hours of two, three like he fears Taeyong does almost every day. Still, it feels like he’s not doing enough, and working seems so much better than losing sleep over misplaced feelings of guilt.

Doyoung comes into the office that morning, with the finalised models in hand, and sees Taeyong in the previous day’s clothes yawning into his coffee. “Uhm,” Doyoung starts.

“Oh.” Taeyong startles. “Hi.”

“You’re…”

“Yes, I have a sleeping bag.” True enough, in the opposite corner of his office is a dark blue sleeping bag, but still. Out of everything that working in an undermanned yet highly demanded investment bank entails, sleeping in the office is probably top on the list of miserable things. Spending a birthday in the office, fifth. Missing Christmas, second. Doyoung feels kind of sorry, and as if Taeyong can read his mind, he sighs, “It’s fine. Are you done with the pro forma?”

Doyoung nods and hands Taeyong his laptop. “Is there anything else I can do for you? I know you… There’s another project you’re working on, and… Uhm.”

Taeyong looks at him like he’s funny—that is to say, the corner of his mouth quirks upward but doesn’t quite become a smile, because it might be rude to smile, to make the funny thing so perceptible in that manner. “Are you up for it?” he asks.

“Uhm.” Doyoung feels so very silly. “I’m not…”

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

“This project doesn’t have a confidentiality clause. You know SJ Entertainment?”

“Yes. Kyuhyun is—” Maybe his motherfucking husband is not the right thing to say. “My inspiration,” Doyoung settles on.

“They’re trying to expand their music horizons,” Taeyong explains. “They realise they don’t have the creative capacity to do so, so they want to merge with another label of the same size. If you like Kyuhyun, then I’m sure you know Jonghyun.”

“He…” Really gets Doyoung’s insides going, if he’s being honest. “He’s my inspiration, too.”

“Yes, so they’ll soon release albums under one label, if this deal goes well.”

“Is it?”

“Going well? The project is in its final stages, and we have yet to close the deal. I have a presentation with Director Seulgi on Friday, and before then, I have to come up with asking prices,” Taeyong answers. He sounds as flat as ever, very much no-nonsense, very much resigned to his fate. Asking prices means valuation, and valuation means a shit ton more work.

“I can help,” Doyoung offers. “Please. I’d like to do more work.”

“Have you done valuation before?”

“In… school.”

“With theoretical cases.”

“Well, yes.”

“You’re not afraid of fucking up?”

The admission spills out of Doyoung’s mouth the split second he hears ‘fuck’ come out of Taeyong’s mouth and something inside him deactivates. “I’m terrified. Really fucking terrified,” he rushes out in an exhale, “but I need to learn.” Maybe he just wants Johnny and Jaehyun to stop calling him Retail. At that point, calling him Investment would be kitschy and terrible, and the name itself wouldn’t catch on. He could just be Doyoung. Maybe he just wants to get to the point where he’s needed instead of being the newbie nuisance from SM’s retail bank. It’s always been investment banking first then retail after, not the other way around, especially not when Doyoung is a first-year analyst at twenty-five instead of the, say, more appropriate age of twenty-two. Taeyong, as Doyoung learned from Sooyoung, is twenty-six, and that puts Doyoung in such an existential crisis. 

Hopefully, none of that had come out of his mouth, but Taeyong looks at him like it had. He shrugs it off. “Okay, you can work on it. I won’t give it to you, though,” he amends. “I’d feel better if I guide you first.”

“Me, too,” Doyoung sighs. “I mean, it’s just—”

“I get it,” Taeyong says, not unkindly. (Doyoung now has a phrase with which he can describe Taeyong, and it’s ‘not unkind’.) “Uhm… How about you work on the NCT 127 case for now? We can get dinner later then I’ll show you how to make a bid.”

Dinner? There’s always been the impression that dinner means fancy restaurants and a client to woo. Between (occasional) partners, it feels like a rushed bowl of instant ramyun and maybe canned coffee to serve as both coffee and dessert. “Yeah, that. That sounds great.”

Taeyong finally smiles. He’s tired, and it shows, but the smile doesn’t feel fake. “See you later.”

 

 

When Doyoung stops by again later to ask something regarding 127’s future cash flows, he finds the door to Taeyong’s office closed. He knocks gently at first, barely making a sound, then decides, with shaking fingers, to open the door by just a crack. There’s only the quiet sound of Taeyong’s even breathing as he sleeps, arms curled up as pillows on the table.

Doyoung closes the door and goes to ask Baekhyun about the cash flows, much to Baekhyun’s surprise.

 

 

Taeyong shows up at Doyoung’s cubicle a little before seven. It somehow feels like a date, mostly because Taeyong’s changed into clean clothes, and they’re still perfectly smooth and crisp. Even Johnny looks mildly confused when Taeyong asks, “Ready?”

Doyoung only nods then fumbles through his cubicle for his wallet and his coat. They take the elevator and walk out of the main lobby in silence, with Taeyong shrugging on his coat as they approach the door. Once outside, Taeyong takes out a cigarette from his pack and lights it.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve invited you to dinner sooner,” Taeyong says. “Since we’re…” He makes noncommittal gestures with his hand. “Since we’re, you know, working together. You should feel welcome. It’s just harder to work when the environment is bad.”

Somehow, Doyoung suspects Taeyong had a whole speech prepared for this moment. “It’s fine. How was your nap?” Doyoung asks.

Taeyong, in the midst of taking a drag, starts to cough, his neck turning red along with the tips of his ears. “You saw?”

“Sorry.”

“I should be saying sorry.”

“Sorry.” Doyoung casts his head down, but quickly looks back up at Taeyong, saying, “I wanted to ask you about 127’s cash flows.”

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says after he lets himself take a deep breath, smoke coming out of his nose. “You’re my responsibility; I shouldn’t be sleeping on the job.”

“I asked Sir Baekhyun about it,” Doyoung tells him, and he’s sure that it just agitates Taeyong even further.

“Please just wake me up next time,” Taeyong says weakly. “Not that you’ll have to, because…”

“Because you won’t do it again?”

“Yes, of course.”

“How many hours of sleep did you have last night? Today?” Doyoung prompts, making Taeyong let out a hollow laugh. 

“Two hours.”

Doyoung can’t help how his mouth just fell open. “Total?”

“Total. Most of it was from that nap you saw this morning,” Taeyong explains. “I laid out the sleeping bag, but I didn’t even get to sleep on it.”

“Why didn’t you just go home?”

“I had a meeting at eleven. You helping me out with the SJ case is a lifesaver.” Taeyong takes the last puff from his cigarette then drops the butt on the floor, only to walk all over it to snuff it out.

Doyoung literally could stop in his tracks right there and bask in that like it’ll keep him warm in Seoul’s February deathly chill. However, his legs keep on walking and stop only when Taeyong stops in front of a small building, with narrow steps leading to the upper floor. He goes first, Doyoung following him to a dumpling restaurant with low chairs and a squat old lady that beams at Taeyong as he bows.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” she greets.

Taeyong’s smile at her is sheepish, but he does look infinitely less tired. “Work. I want some of your soup, and lots of kimchi.” He takes a seat in one of the empty booths. Doyoung takes the seat opposite him and looks at the menu, if only to see what else they have, because all he wants is fried dumplings and plenty of hot white rice to go with it. “Her dumpling soup is my favourite thing,” Taeyong says quietly, making Doyoung look up to see something wistful on Taeyong’s face.

It feels like something Doyoung shouldn’t have seen, that face.

“I’ll get that next time, sir,” Doyoung reassures him. He orders the fried dumplings and stops himself from getting soju along with it.

“This will sound inane,” Taeyong begins, “but what do you expect from me? As your partner, I mean.”

Partner? “I’m not sure… I think you’re doing an okay job,” Doyoung says slowly. “I just, uhm…” Does he want Taeyong to be more brutal in the hopes that it’ll push him to work harder? “Can you at least let me know how I’m doing?”

Taeyong’s been chewing on his lip, and it’s then that Doyoung has to admit to himself that maybe his boss/partner is attractive and a bit of his fluster is attributed to that. The thought eases something in Doyoung’s mind then raises another concern. “You mean…?”

“A verbal reassurance,” Doyoung supplies.

“Oh.” Taeyong slumps in his seat. “I normally don’t say anything if everything’s okay,” he says. “Does that answer your question?”

Doyoung flushes red as he lets out a breath he doesn’t realise he’s been holding. “It’s a relief,” he admits. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be more vocal from now on,” Taeyong promises.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to be,” Doyoung says. “I know how you are now.”

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to get cocky.”

“I’m not that kind of person.”

“The more I watch you work, yes, I agree,” Taeyong says with a smile, and _shit_.

The dumplings thankfully arrive at their table, as well as a boatload of side dishes. Doyoung even sees soybean sprouts, which he gladly picks up with his chopsticks and eats so he doesn’t have to see the look on Taeyong’s face when he takes that first sip of soup and lets out a dreamy sigh.

Doyoung, however, _does_ hear the dreamy sigh.

“I’m sorry you can’t go home early tonight,” Taeyong apologises once he’s halfway through his soup.

“I was expecting it,” Doyoung says. “I have the energy for it now.” The dumplings are fantastic, by the way, with skin that has enough of an elastic pull and chew to it that’s retained even after frying. He also appreciates the lack of a film of grease on his lips and the warmth gathering in his stomach from the dumplings and tea.

Taeyong smiles again and continues to eat. “By the way, is it okay if you don’t call me sir? It feels awkward.”

The other guys do it, of course, but Doyoung still feels like he got thrown for a loop. “Sure…” Then, as if testing the way it feels in his mouth, “Hyung…”

“Yeah, that.”

“Better?”

“Infinitely.” Taeyong’s shoulders do loosen up after that, exaggerating to the point of slouching. Doyoung smiles, so Taeyong smiles, too.

Maybe when Doyoung’s not about to pull an all-nighter for an acquisition project, he can have a long chat with himself about how fucked up it is to crush on someone who calls himself a partner yet is technically a boss. Or he could at least scold himself for letting himself think that Taeyong is… really, intensely, incredibly attractive.

 

 

It’s a little past four in the morning; since returning to the office, Doyoung had been seated next to Taeyong, both of them curled up in front of a desktop as Taeyong literally teaches Doyoung how to make a bid based on the forecast of SHINee Entertainment’s cash flows for the next ten years step by step.

“Of course, their current present value isn’t sufficient,” Taeyong pointed out once they had the pro forma analysis all set up. “Along the way, they could have debuted an artist that became viral, and now that profit will be shared with SJ Entertainment.”

“So you’re… trying to compensate,” Doyoung said slowly. “With money.”

“Yes, but also, it’s a merger not an acquisition, so it’s more like you’re paying them for the opportunity to work together with you.” Taeyong made a face. “That sounded crude.”

“It’s like a marriage without the pre-nuptials,” Doyoung brought up.

Taeyong laughed, and it was _so nice to hear_. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” Doyoung was left staggered, breath trying not to hitch since Taeyong was just a few centimetres away, with shaking shoulders that Doyoung can feel in his consciousness.

Now, Taeyong is leaning back into his chair and stretching his arms upwards. “After this, it’s all just deliberations. We look at SHINee’s deals in the past, any considerations that SJ needs. I have to visit SHINee tomorrow to talk to their CFO.”

“I can’t think anymore,” Doyoung says blankly.

“Me neither,” Taeyong groans. “You should go home. Where do you live?”

“Near the DMC.”

“Fuck, that’s far,” Taeyong complains. “I live just walking distance from here.”

“Sorry.”

“No, I mean… You’re going with me to SHINee tomorrow, and the meeting’s at nine. Just take a shower at my place.”

“I’m… Me? SHINee?”

“You sound uneasy.”

That’s because Doyoung _is_ , and Doyoung doesn’t have to think about admitting it or not, because Taeyong just nods, and that means the unease is palpable on Doyoung’s entity. 

“Don’t be,” Taeyong tells him. “I’ll do all the talking. I just need you to see how it’s done.” He doesn’t hold Doyoung’s hand or anything, but he asks, in a soft voice, “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah…” Doyoung nods. “I’ll be fine.”

Taeyong frowns. “If you want to be a director, you’ll have to face people eventually.”

“Eventually.” Doyoung trembles like a leaf. “Right now, I’m just an analyst.”

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” Taeyong says. He stands up, so Doyoung stands up, too. “You should tell me about that on the way.”

Doyoung asks, “About what?”

“Your…” Taeyong screws up his face as he finds the proper word to say. “Apprehensions.” He turns off his desktop and shrugs on his coat. “I’ll wait for you at the entrance,” he says, leaving Doyoung to gather his things from his cubicle. Everyone’s gone home now, the entire office cast in only the light of boxes and things blinking to keep things running.

Doyoung shoves all his things into the large messenger bag he got the day after he found out he got accepted then wraps his scarf around his neck. He looks nowhere as crisp as Taeyong in his clean-cut pants, sharp and shiny shoes, shirt starched just right. At least Doyoung thinks he looks clean enough, and maybe a little smart once he puts on his glasses.

Suddenly, Taeyong’s entire expression crumbles. “I realise inviting you to my house sounds… indecent.”

At that moment, it becomes all too clear that Taeyong is an overthinker, and Doyoung is overwhelmed by how much he wants to say _Me, too_ to every single expression Taeyong makes that gives off a vibe of despair.

“I’m grateful,” Doyoung reassures him. “I really am. At this time it’s almost impossible to go home.”

Taeyong lets out another smile and leads them out. “I want to apologise in advance for my home. I don’t get to clean too often,” he says breathlessly in the elevator, where the brightness compared to the darkness of the office is jarring and makes Doyoung squint. “Then again, I don’t do much at home besides sleep and shower.”

“Like today.”

“Like today,” Taeyong echoes.

There is a slight urgency in Doyoung’s desire to hold Taeyong’s hand. Right here, in the immensely bright elevator right before it opens into the dimmed main lobby, but Taeyong’s busy fumbling his pockets for his cigarettes. Also, it’s not at all assuring that a first-year analyst with awkward social skills wants to hold the hand of a third-year associate whose perfectionism means he contemplates the minute details until there is no way else to consider them.

It’s just that… Doyoung understands how it feels. He watches the way Taeyong’s lips nearly bleed from his chewing on them with worry and thinks that the crease in Taeyong’s forehead is likely to become permanent before Taeyong hits the ripe old age of thirty.

“Does smoking help?” Doyoung asks quietly while he watches Taeyong light up his cigarette outside the building.

“I don’t recommend you try it,” Taeyong says. “Have you?”

Doyoung shakes his head. They begin to walk, Taeyong leading them to the opposite direction of where Doyoung usually goes.

“You should try… going to the gym or something,” Taeyong suggests, then bursts out laughing when he realises the absurdity of what he’s just said. “That was a bad joke.”

Unbidden, Doyoung cracks open a smile, too. “Yeah, it was.”

“Is that why you quit retail?” Taeyong asks. “You don’t like facing clients?”

“I got told often that clients can smell your fear,” Doyoung says, “which is terrible because I think I’m all fear. I’d be repulsive.”

“So you… want to stay an analyst forever?”

“Which is strange, because there’s so much uncertainty behind forecasting,” Doyoung rambles on, now unable to stop. “This whole industry of basing things on a projected worth is so built on shaky ground. We’re telling people how much they’re worth based on the limited information we have, and people pay us so much for the luxury of stepping on other people’s toes because it somehow adds value to their being. I know Johnny really likes it. I think _you_ like it because you’re high up already. Me…”

“You’re not sure if you like it?” Taeyong exhales, the smoke coming out as a thick white cloud in the cold air. “You’re… a good worker, that’s all I can say. You learn quickly. I understand if you think a part of you feels compromised for working in an industry like this.”

Doyoung’s face becomes too hot, and he splutters, “I shouldn’t have told you any of this, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, that’s okay… I’m just thinking that if Director Junmyeon hired you, then you must have done something right in your interview,” Taeyong muses aloud. “To be honest, I was worried when you came into my office looking like a deer caught in headlights.”

“I did?”

“Right now, I can’t think of a time when you don’t look like one.”

“Please stop,” Doyoung begs, with enough heat in his face to melt snow upon contact. His face feels numb, probably from all the grimacing. “I’ll work on it.” Instead of a worded response, Taeyong wraps an arm around his shoulders, making Doyoung crave the sweet release of death on this particular Gangnam street.

“I really like working with you,” Taeyong says. The warmth emanating from his body is distracting, and if Taeyong can feel Doyoung stiffen up, he doesn’t do anything about it, because that’s the kind of person Doyoung is, or so Taeyong feels and has now cemented in his mind. Strangest of all is that Taeyong doesn’t seem to care, and he’s the most calm Doyoung’s seen since he entered SM Capital.

Eventually, walking becomes difficult that way, so Taeyong lets go of Doyoung’s shoulders and reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers together.

 

 

(Doyoung maybe needs a lifetime or two to process how Taeyong’s hand in his feels so inappropriate in the office but very right at five in the morning.)

Taeyong’s apartment shows itself quite plainly, barely touched and craving it. The plush sofa is beautiful but cold when Doyoung lies down on it after removing his shoes. Taeyong wrangles his necktie out of his neck and begins to unbutton his shirt.

“I’ll go first,” Taeyong offers. “I think I have clothes that’ll fit you, so I’ll lay them out for you on the bed.”

In all honesty, Doyoung wishes he could say that he rather Taeyong lay himself on the bed and get a good rest than busy himself laying out clothes for someone like him. “Thanks so much” is what he ends up saying amidst his yawning. Taeyong disappears inside his bathroom, leaving Doyoung on the couch with the urge to sleep yet a desire to encounter Taeyong as he is.

In the fridge, beers and wines well-stocked and categorised. Not much raw food, no vegetables in the crisper. There’s a block of cheese covered in wax paper and a box of chocolate truffles, a fridge meant to woo but not promise. It becomes clear then to Doyoung that Taeyong doesn’t really expect to be home for a long period of time.

On the bookshelf, an assortment of finance books from Taeyong’s days in college, Haruki Murakami, a poetry book. There’s a manhwa, its pages the most yellowed, spine almost crumbling. A Post-It scribbled on in Taeyong’s rushed handwriting, reminding himself to pick up some suits he had dry cleaned. Doyoung wonders when that was written, and if Taeyong had been able to pick up those suits.

In the living room, a large enough TV, a large enough couch, a large enough coffee table. Bare surface, only remote controls on the frosted glass. A carpet. Plenty of pillows.

It’s the kind of room home developers show to clients, giving them the illusion they’re paying for more than four walls and maybe a parking slot in the basement.

Taeyong comes out with wet hair, already dressed except that the shirt hasn’t been buttoned properly just yet. “What do you think?” he asks.

“About…?”

“My place.”

“It’s bigger than mine,” Doyoung notes. It’s quite large and in an expensive part of town. The realisation hits him and makes him feel small. “At my place, you could open the fridge from the bed.” Taeyong snorts. “Hey, don’t laugh; it’s easy beer when I need it.”

“Your clothes are all there. I found underwear I’ve never worn before, so you can have it.” Then, as if Taeyong can sense Doyoung’s apprehension, he adds, “I left the price tag on.”

“Thanks, s—Hyung,” Doyoung corrects himself at the end. “Thanks, hyung.” A sir wouldn’t lend him underwear, but a hyung would. Doyoung ducks into the bedroom, makes a little mental note of how messy the bedroom is compared to the generally unlived-in living room, and smiles to himself about it in the shower, letting the hot water loosen up the tension in his back. The shampoo Taeyong uses feels clean and smells minty, vaguely citrusy. The soap, on the other hand, is unremarkable.

On the bed (queen-sized), underwear (Calvin Klein), a shirt (white and a little tight, but not uncomfortably so), pants (black and clean cut), socks (Calvin Klein again). Doyoung dresses himself up slowly, watching himself in the mirror. In Taeyong’s clothes, he feels crisper and a little more substantial, a little bit more put-together as he buttons the cuffs closed.

“You look good,” Taeyong offers when he barges into the room and digs into a cabinet for a necktie, handing it to Doyoung and putting one on himself. “We can grab something to eat before heading to SHINee.”

Doyoung blurts out, “I wanted to nap.”

Taeyong lets out a laugh. “I was gonna take the day off after the meeting with SHINee,” he admits. “Are you behind on the NCT 127 project?”

“No, and I’m still waiting for 127 to get back to me on some documents,” Doyoung supplies.

“Take the day off, too.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please,” Taeyong begs. “I don’t want you to call or email me when I’m running on two hours of sleep in two days. Director Kyungsoo thinks I’m talented, but I’m not a robot.” He frowns when he realises what’s spilled from his mouth. “Sorry.”

Maybe this isn’t the right thing to do—Doyoung’s necktie is half-done and his palms have gone clammy, both contributing to an overall terrible image that ends in Doyoung reaching for Taeyong’s hand and Taeyong staring at their joined knuckles.

“I’ve been _dying_ to tell you to take a break since yesterday,” Doyoung admits. The way his voice is _not_ shaking surprises him.

But he jumps when Taeyong runs a thumb over the back of his hand.

 

 

Doyoung’s a little starstruck, coming into SHINee Entertainment and seeing not only Onew slipping inside an office but Minho as well following suit. He’s a little dizzy with hope that Jonghyun might stop by that morning, so he smiles a little too hard, his muscles aching.

The deal negotiations, on the other hand, are terribly boring. SHINee is afraid that SJ will try to impose majority on them, so they want what’s fair for everyone, fifty percent of ownership, some other rights. What’s slightly more interesting is how Taeyong manages to pull off not looking like a walking zombie, speaking in a voice loud enough for his phone’s voice recorder to pick up.

“I know I told you to take the day off, but I’ll send you a copy of this later, so can you transcribe it for me, please?” Taeyong requests once the meeting is over. Doyoung is surreptitiously trying to find a souvenir shop in the midst of a corporate landscape, which makes Taeyong sigh. “Doyoung.”

“Right, sorry. I’ll do it right away.”

“Are you looking for your inspiration, Kim Jonghyun?” Taeyong teases, deadpan.

Yes. “No.” Doyoung clears his throat.

“It’s okay; I’m not here to tell you you’re wrong for having a little crush on him,” Taeyong says lightly. “How are you getting home?”

“I take the subway,” Doyoung answers.

“Will you be able to today? You look like you’re going to faint.” Without waiting for Doyoung’s reply, Taeyong whips out his phone. “I’ll call a cab for you.”

“What?” Doyoung splutters. “Please, no. Hyung.” Cabs are expensive when one has to travel all the way across the city. “I’ll be fine on the subway, swear.”

“You don’t have to pay me back.”

“It’s not about the money,” Doyoung protests. “You’ve done so much for me today.” And he doesn’t want to think about what this sudden shift _means_ other than that maybe Taeyong is like this to everyone if one shows him enough vulnerability.

Thankfully, Taeyong doesn’t push it, and Doyoung gets to wave him good bye from the subway station entrance.

 

 ***

 

“Nervous?” Doyoung asks on Friday, right before Taeyong has his presentation with Director Seulgi.

“I need to pee,” Taeyong says in lieu of a proper answer. “Come with me?”

The toilet is all empty, and Taeyong’s shoulders slump when he realises that, letting out a sigh.

“Come here.” Taeyong gestures for Doyoung to step into the open space that Taeyong has created in front of him. He places firm hands onto Doyoung’s shoulders then scowls. “Why are you so tall?” he demands.

“Why are you so _short_?” Doyoung retorts.

“Can you… uhm… bring your head down?” Taeyong asks. “Please?”

“Why?”

“I want to kiss you.”

Doyoung can feel the tips of his ears flush madly with heat, and he ducks his head down quickly in case someone comes in.

Taeyong sighs. “Your eyes are wide open,” he points out.

“My eyelids might be frozen,” Doyoung stutters, making Taeyong laugh.

“Okay,” Taeyong says slowly, in a low voice, “try to relax.” He cups Doyoung’s face in his hands and runs the pads of his thumbs lightly over Doyoung’s eyes to close them before leaning in, kissing Doyoung softly, chastely, quickly, and pulling away before Doyoung could properly burn the feeling of Taeyong’s mouth on his in his brain.

“Uhm.”

“You can open your eyes now,” Taeyong whispers. It somehow sounds so loud, rattling around Doyoung’s skull.

Doyoung pipes up to ask, “Can you do that again?”

“I’ll be late,” Taeyong warns, but he kisses Doyoung again, this time much slower but with the same softness, and a bit of Doyoung aches when they let go once again.

“Good luck,” Doyoung offers.

“Don’t need it.”

 

 

Director Seulgi’s confident that the deal will close between SJ and SHINee, that much Doyoung can surmise from her sunny disposition walking out of the conference room.

“Oh, you’re Junmyeon’s boy,” she says.

“Yes, ma’am,” Doyoung says with a bow. “I’m Kim Doyoung.”

She takes the hand he gives her and shakes it with a beautiful smile. “Pleasure. Taeyong said you worked on the bid.”

“I… I did, but hyung had to teach me a lot.”

“I’ll let Junmyeon know you’re doing a good job, okay?” Seulgi says, and it takes so much of Doyoung’s willpower to not crumple in front of a director. “I hope to hear a lot more from you, Doyoung.”

“I won’t disappoint you, ma’am.”

“Never will,” Taeyong supplements as he joins Doyoung outside of the conference room. “Thank you for the time, ma’am.” Together, they bow in front of Seulgi then watch her walk back to her office, a beautiful gilded affair with her own precious whiskey cabinet. Taeyong then turns his attention back to Doyoung as they start walking back to their work areas. “Did you want something?”

“Yeah, uh…” Doyoung shuffles for the documents on hand. “I was going to give you these earlier, but I saw that you had a copy already.”

“So you just stayed to watch me?” Taeyong’s face splits up into a grin, his face bright. “I feel good. The CEO of SJ gave me a signed Kyuhyun CD as thanks.”

“That’s great.”

“Do you want it?”

“That’s even better,” Doyoung gushes. “I always try to get into his fansigns, but I never do. You’re the best, hyung.”

Taeyong smiles, quickly patting the small of Doyoung’s back when he says, “You did me a huge favour.” When they get to Taeyong’s office, they find nearly everyone on lunch break. “Come in.”

Doyoung’s stomach curls when Taeyong closes the door behind them, the lock soft as it slides into place. He’s not at all prepared for Taeyong pressing him against the door, the tips of their noses rubbing together before they could properly kiss.

“Wait,” Doyoung breathes.

“What?”

“Where’s the CD?”

Taeyong pulls away to laugh loudly, taking the CD out of his briefcase to place it on the table. “Here. It’s safe,” he says.

“Do you think SHINee will also give you one?”

“Why don’t you ask NCT to give you a helicopter, too?” Taeyong asks incredulously. He leans on his toes to kiss Doyoung’s forehead then trails down the bridge of Doyoung’s nose before catching his lips again.

Their hands meet, Doyoung’s fingers curling into Taeyong’s palm, the other curled into the back of Taeyong’s neck. Doyoung sighs when Taeyong’s mouth ghosts over his jaw, tracing the line of it then the places in Doyoung’s throat that dip, nipping slowly and gently with no teeth.

“I want to…” Taeyong begins, and with a heated face cups Doyoung through his pants with his free hand.

“Yeah,” Doyoung says with a fervent nod. “ _Please_.”

Not that that makes Taeyong any faster; he’s busying himself with taking off Doyoung’s necktie then the undoing of the buttons of Doyoung’s shirt, kissing the bare skin that reveals itself each time. Doyoung’s knees are beginning to shake, mostly because he can hear footsteps outside, but also because he never in his life thought he’d bring a higher-up to his knees, particularly in this very literal manner. When Taeyong gets to the belt, he leans back on his heels for a bit to look up at Doyoung.

“Is this okay?” Taeyong asks, and Doyoung is one-hundred percent sure Taeyong’s not talking about his own swollen mouth. Thank god Doyoung’s not a stress-hives kind of person.

“More than,” Doyoung manages with a gulp. Taeyong undoes his belt and drags down his pants in slow movements, bringing it all the way down to Doyoung’s ankles. Then, his underwear, and it’s here that Taeyong slows down even more from a snail’s pace to positively _glacial_ , as if he wants Doyoung to feel the conditioned air on his cock at every inch. “You know,” Doyoung says a little shakily, “we’re still in the office.”

Taeyong’s eyebrows knit together. “I know; that’s why I’m only blowing you right now.”

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Doyoung chokes out. He should pray or something, just to thank anyone out there for the gorgeous man bringing his underwear down his legs and kissing the underside of his dick. Taeyong has his eyes closed, eyelashes long and fanning out; he looks so pretty, and Doyoung is pretty much just ready to come undone at any second, knees shaking.

“Tell me if you’re close, okay? Also, try to be quiet.”

“Sure,” Doyoung says, though his soul had just left his body. Taeyong flicks his tongue into the slit at the head, and Doyoung _keens_ , enough for Taeyong’s forehead to crease from worry.

After that, Doyoung keeps his bottom lip caught between his teeth, to muffle out anything that might come out. Taeyong finally takes him in, cheeks relaxed and tongue flat. He opens his eyes to meet Doyoung’s then smiles through them as he languidly goes up and down, hand jacking Doyoung off where he can’t reach. His lips, a beautiful shade of pink, are so, so pretty against his skin.

Doyoung tilts his head back and lets out a soft groan, barely audible amongst the sounds Taeyong’s mouth is making. “There,” Doyoung sighs when Taeyong focuses on sucking the head. “Right there.” He can’t make a firm grip on Taeyong’s hair because he’ll ruin it, so he curls his fingers on the top of his thighs, where Taeyong had a hand splayed flat while the other teased Doyoung in long, broad strokes. “I’m—”

Taeyong pulls away in time, come landing in strokes on his cheeks and forehead, running down his nose. Doyoung ends up laughing at the sight, though he knows he looks funny, too, barely dressed and a deep pink. He only stops when he remembers he has to breathe, taking deep breaths until the unease in his chest leaves.

At the other side of room, Taeyong cleans himself up and checks his clothes for any rumples then dresses Doyoung up again when he realises Doyoung’s all but turned into jelly, stuck against the wall and loose-limbed. There’s something nice about the way Taeyong breathes, how it’s always quite deep, always exiting through his nose. Doyoung pulls him up by the lapels to kiss him then buries his face into the crook of Taeyong’s neck.

 

***

 

After a little more than three months of working on the NCT 127 project, it’s ready to be presented. Doyoung comes into the conference room thirty minutes early to set up then to down as many glasses of ice water as he can before Taeyong stops him with “You don’t want to have to excuse yourself, right?”

“Right,” Doyoung exhales.

“Not to scare you,” Taeyong says, “but it’s kind of a big project.”

“I knew what it was the second I heard it’s NCT.”

“All the directors will be here to listen,” Taeyong continues. “And the CFO and CEO of NCT.”

“Shit.” Now it’s Doyoung who needs to pee, and he makes a quick survey of the glass walls to see if anyone is headed in their direction. The hand he places on the table, Taeyong covers with his own.

“Doyoung, listen to me.” Taeyong picks up Doyoung’s hand and places the knuckles near his lips. “You’re going to do fine,” he says. “Just trust me. Don’t think of this as a big project—”

“Didn’t you just tell me a minute ago—”

“Just think of it as a regular project, and this is how all presentations are like. Don’t let it scare you.” Taeyong sets Doyoung’s hand down again and pats the back of it. “Or look at me,” he suggests, “if you feel scared.”

The directors are coming. Taeyong takes a seat near the back and Doyoung shuffles through some papers, stopping only to bow once Director Junmyeon had entered.

“Good morning, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/satanyong) if you like the fic and wanna talk~ please be nice to me haha


End file.
